Hello there! Been well?

It has been really long since I posted - for the most part it was being lazy, having no time (honestly) and also because I was simply swamped with other things and so chose to do nothing when I had free time.

I started MBA last year and it is not a two year holiday. It is anything but. It is a lot of work, a lot of cursing and a whole lot of "I have no clue about it, but let me wing it anyway!" Plus the realization that real world seems to do that more often than not. School has been fun - learning a lot and unlearning a few lessons I wish I had never learned. Also making great friends and spending time with them - think stealing time by procrastinating or simply not doing things I should be doing.

Okay, this is it for the time being, but I will be posting more regularly. Promise!

As a kid, I remember heading to Shirdi and being completely disenchanted by it. Spending millions of rupees to make a temple meant for a man who lived in a dliapidated building himself made no sense to me. I still have not understood how a temple with a gold statue is more worthy of a person's patronage than one of those under the tree painted crimson rocks. But this is not about fancy temples.

From Shirdi,we went to Shani Shinganapur. And I could not go on the platform of the temple because I was a girl. I was more than happy to not go, mad at temples as is, but since then, I have always wondered why men get the right to pray in certain temples while women wait. What makes it a man's right to touch a diety, and a woman's touch defiles it. Why men get to be the more powerful sex and the women the weaker sex.

As part of a school trip, I also went to Mount Abu. And out there, right in front of the Dilwara Temples, written in that stenciled Hindi was the fact that menstruating women can not enter the temple unless they accept God's wrath upon themselves. As a young teen, I was led to believe by a temple's board that menstruation was impure. Why, I do not know. If men had periods, I am sure they would be made demi-gods for "suffering" for the humankind, feted for being strong because they could handle the pain, exhaustion, cramps, mood swings and all the discomforts associated with menstruation.

As I grew older, I questioned and discarded both these issues. I do not believe that there is any temple where I can not pray simply because I am a woman. And if I want to go to a temple when I have my period, no one can stop me. And so, when I read this, I had to post it.  And the priests cursed the women who wanted to pray in the anctum sanctorum because why? If I am right, a priest is an educated person and should not be using curses right? Or is it that they were scared of the women who would not bow down to them? A goddess would shower her wrath on women because only men can pray in her temple?

Also, because there are more worshippers, there is a higher chance for robbery:
"It could be robbed. Right now, not many men worship in the disputed area. In the case of women, everyone will want to touch the Goddess. What if something gets stolen or robbed?” demands one of the priests.
And of course, women will rob jewelry when they see it right? And men do no such things.

Men feel like this is a breach of tradition. Fair enough. Who made this tradition in the first place? Why? I wanted to know. So I tried to look up and could not found a specific answer. But people have answers. The one where women would make a temple impure.

"When women come to the temple, the purity of the temple would be lost. So, to maintain the tradition of the temple, only women are not permitted inside it,"

How can anyone make anything impure? What is impure anyways? Apparently, the har cheez mein bhagwan basta hai is a complete and total lie when it comes to women.

Also, menstruation seems to be all the buzzword when it comes to making women impure. Sure, you are anyways killing girl child before she will even be born, effectively taking over the entire world, without realizing you do need a bride your laadla and a womb to give birth to his offsprings.

Why do we even hide behind the devi maa ruse? Why don't we just accept that we want India's women to stay at home so that their families can lord over them; or bring home the bread while wearing a saari and then hand over the bread to the "head" of the house; then watch as she is left with the crumbs. When we treat even our temples as a tool of discrimination, how can we ever say we worship women?

When I do have kids, I want a daughter. I don't want a sugar lump who will dissolve, but I want a hard baked clay doll (don't get stuck on the word doll!) And I want her to know that life will mess her up and she will mess up of her own volition.

I want her to not worry about her skin colour or her height. I do want her to worry about being healthy. I want her to grow, explore and challenge herself - better what she wants, and have the courage to accept her failures. I want my daughter to love herself and not let anyone walk over her, not even me. When I do have a daughter, I want her to smile for herself and want her to share her smiles with others. I want her to work hard and know luck won't do shit till she busts her ass.

I want her to love her father because he has the real silent guts to my airy fake courage. I want her to love the air she will breathe and thank God for her life.

And I also want her to hear this:




B by Sarah Kay:

“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”
She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.

And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”

But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.

I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind.Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.

You will put the “wind” in win some lose some. You will put the “star” in starting over and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. And yes, on a scale of one to over-trusting, I am pretty fucking naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier, but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more. Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you’ve done something wrong, but don’t you EVER apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small, but don’t ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep, and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really oughta meet your mother.””

This was an entry I had posted a while ago. And on the bottom is a recent response to it.

It says this:

"
Stumbled upon your blog. Made some interesting reading. Its the diary of an Indian girl who got seduced by the West. So many choices. So much freedom. So many heady experiences waiting to be had. Ah! The pursuit of personal happiness! I have come across girls like you in real life but this is the first time I am actually reading one such girl's thoughts. The posts are extremely eloquent but they are exactly what I was thought they would be. Thanks for penning them.

I feel so sad for your dad and your brother. But I think you already know that you belong in the West. You should stay there and enjoy your freedom and your lifestyle. But if try to eat your cake and have it too, it will only make you seem even more selfish. I hope you have a lot of fun in the West. Its a fun place. All the best.

Location: Motherland
Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Manana Jashn-e-azadi na mere vaste rona
"

While I could have very happily posted a comment, I think my response warrants a comment of its own.

So I am seduced by the West? Just because I choose to say "NO" means I am seduced by the West. The Indian constitution obviously does not hold for this person from the Motherland who chooses to remain anon. Because I choose to make my own informed decision makes me a traitor and the person who cries behind closed doors for lost opportunities an Indian? Pursuit of personal happiness is un-Indian? Is it because I am a girl that it is a big crime? Or is it because I just said No to something I did not believe in? Or is the fact that it is the combination of the two that makes me the non-Indian?

You have come across girls like me? What does that mean? Does it mean that you have come across strong independent women, but have no guts to say anything out loud to them? Or does it mean that you judge everyone but the girl who marries a man much older than herself for her family's izzat? (whatever that means!) Obviously a girl's happiness does not carry any weight in your heart. I really hope you do not have a daughter.

It is not that I did not work hard for the choices I have/had. I worked harder than most I know and I refuse to let anyone walk over me. Be it my father, my brother, his wife or even my own husband. BTW, I think I should tell you that my husband and I married against my family's wish. Not because he is not an amazing person, but because my father thinks I should have married someone "he" chose. My marriage is my own matter, no one else's. Oh and BTW, I am deliriously happy with him.

If you think I would have been different if I had not moved out to the US, you may be right to an extent. But no one can coerce me into doing something I do not want. I have been known as the outspoken person in my family. And I maintain that attitude no matter what.

You are right in feeling sad for my brother and my father. Specially my father. He lives in his own world, while I live in my own. Our worlds clash. But he does not want to budge a bit. Fair enough. Just because I am his daughter does not mean I "HAVE" to. I will when it seems right to me. Even if it may not sound right to me. But not on matters which make my life miserable forever.

I belong to the West because I make my life my own? You do know you live in the year 2011 right? Or were you under a stone and just woke up? I belong to the West because I stand my ground? Because I refuse to bow down to your effed up sexual prejudices? Jeez! I belong to the West because I work and refuse to cook when I am tired? Or because my husband knows he can't walk over me? (Which he appreciates in me.)

I am selfish because I want to live my life according to my own standards? I am selfish because you have labeled all Indian women as "Sati-Savitri" which I refuse to become? I am selfish because I choose who to marry, what to do, how to speak, what to eat? I am selfish because I worked really really really long and hard to bake my cake to perfection and now want a slice of it? Well then yes, I am selfish. I respect my father. I love him. But I do not bow down to the social pressures. I do not let people who talk bullcrap affect me. They will always find something to talk about. It does not mean I will have to change who I am. I am no longer a little girl, but a young woman on the cusp of 30 who will tell you things as she sees them. I will defend my rights and fight for them if you try to take it away from me. I am selfish because I cook and clean and take care of my father, but get angry when he thinks that my marriage is his decision. Fair enough. Label me who you want, but I am not about to cry because of a loser like you. You make my head spin because of the sheer absurdity of your thoughts.

I do not know where I will end up. East/West are all the same to me. I live my life the way I want it. I live it for me and people close to me. Sometimes we do not agree on our views. Often. I do not agree with decisions made by my family members. I can give them advice, but it is up to them to live their lives their way. And I for sure will. I enjoy myself whereever I live.

Yours truly
Purva

It has been a long time since I last posted. Long time since I felt like writing anything. And long time since I felt motivated to do so.

2010 was a weird year. A year of plenty and also some loss. My brother got married. I married. My father retired from his job. My grandfather died.

It has been weird to having to wait for paperwork to go through so you can start job hunts. To wait for paper work so that I can marry.

2011 also marks the end to the mostly turbulent 2000s for me. And honestly, I was glad to see it go away. I would happily miss large portions of that time frame and not feel like I lost time. I know that someone would say that everything that happened shaped me, and that is true enough, but I would still happily trade for remembering nothing, a la Eternal Secrets of the Spotless Mind, one of my favourite movies.

As of 2:38 PM, 6 Jan 2011, I am a changed woman, a different person as compared to the one even on 5 Jan 2011. But I know that I am on my way up and that nothing will stop me. Not even myself.

Erich Segal died. R.I.P.

Why does a girl who can handle her own troubles confuse the world? Or more like scare? Are women only expected to be the damsels in distress?

So here is the deal - I like mulling over my problems. No thank you very much, your help is not needed till it is asked for. And that seems to be the bone of contention between me and every one else. Why? They say they want to help me. How about starting by letting me be? Too hard? How about just leaving me alone for a while?

I do not understand the you-have-to-tell-me-so-that-I-can-fix-it attitude. Jeez people, my issue, let me fix it. Okay, I appreciate that it is hard for you to stand by and watch me while I am troubled. But the moment you rush in like a knight in shining armour, without me asking for it, you are digging your own grave. I mean for all my love of fairy tales, I ain't no Disney princess. I don't have a castle and I do know how to fight my way out of a fight. I am strong and no I do know I need help. But God, not when I do not need it.

So till I ask for it, keep help to yourself. I much appreciate you standing by to help me than interfering. Does it even make any sense?

Namaste jee. All good and well? Chalo well well. So how is life people?

I did okay okay in my GMAT. 710 and 6.0. Yes I am pretty disappointed. Could have done so much better jee. Hell lot better. This is why they tell you not to ask your father to book a train ticket. He will leave it to others which means you will freeze your ass on the way to Delhi. And then have a achy body the day of the exam. Well no excuses. I should have done better.

What else? No more sickness. It is nice weather here. Just a nip of winter in the air. While Papa says it is freezing, I shrug and make do with a couple of layers of cotton tees. But yes it is a little cold. Proof? My blue toe nails. My hands and feet freeze at the smallest hint of cold. And they stay that way. So I am pretty sure that if I am ever lost in snow, my toes will die. Sigh.

Oh BTW, the Delhi trip was awesome. A lot of fun. Met SG. For the first time. I am amazed at how many friendships I have that are pretty much virtual. I mean there are plenty of people I have not seen in years or ever for that matter and am pretty decent friends with. No, I am not even lying. But yes, it was a lot of fun. A few hours at MDI. Spending no money (gasp!) at Dilli Haat (I have pretty much most of their Silver jewelery - they need to come up with new ideas) or at Janpath. Earl Gray at Chaa Bar. Discussing everything from Obama to the Thackerays to patriotism and family to risk taking. Throw in start up ideas and discussing and rejecting alternatives of how to provide the facilities in question.

After meeting SG, AG and I caught a movie. Kurbaan. And boy was it fun or was it fun? Like a few minutes into it, she was sniggering and I was like "Ghar chalein?" And can you believe it? I was laughing like a banshee at the climax. I mean okay, you are trying for high drama here. But come on!!! If I knew someone was plotting a big fat terrorist attack, I would call 911. Plain simple. Jeez!

The next day was spent shopping. Shopping yay! And we got done with buying three saris in 1.5 hours flat. Some sort of record for sure. And did I mention we only went to two stores? We also went jewelery shopping. But the piercings in my ears are way too small and like all the ear-rings were too big for me. Sigh. I will have to wear studs in my ears, which I absolutely hate. It is funny. My brother is getting married right. Can I not go in a pair of jeans and a nice tee shirt? May be I will put on a kurta in place of a tee shirt? No? Yes? Why?

The past few days have been sort of ulta-pulta. A lot of work and a lot of disagreements and arguments. The kinds that leave you tired because they resolve nothing. Because you keep going back and forth and repeating the same things. Because you hurt and you hurt the person in front. What is it about fights that both the people are in it to win it? You did X and you said Y. But you caused it by being Z. Umm I know that all this is true but how about a middle path? Given my stubbornness, it is a little hard. But I am trying. Please do believe me. I am trying to let others in and try to kind of change my devil-may-care attitude a little. But darn right, it is hard.

Oh, on an aside, me is going to Aurangabad later in Dec and then not too sure about what next. May stay in Mumbai for a couple of days or go to Goa. Not sure about it yet. But I am looking forward to meeting MG and spending time with him. And I promise that this time I won't be sick :)

I could tell you about wedding preparations. But eh, it is a pretty boring topic. So I will spare myself. You have fun logon. Later.

Families seem to have a way of turning you inside out and then wring you until you feel hollowed out. The hardest part for me is to try and satisfy everyone who wants a piece of Purva. I have responsibilities and I am not running away from them. But then you ask for my opinion and then shy away from it - that makes me mad. And then when I do not say anything, I am not giving enough time. Fine, you can do it your way and I will do it my way. I am a daughter, a granddaughter, a cousin, a sister, a niece and a friend all wrapped in one. But somewhere, along the way, people tend to forget that I exist as myself too. That their ideas of me and my requirements of me are totally polar opposites of each other and frankly, it affects me.

The latest madness is my brother's upcoming wedding. I come from a very simple family. We are the middle class of India with a tonne of dreams and a little money to accomplish everything with. So my father's exuberance at this wedding is getting just a little out of hand. From calling people who I have never even heard of to the wedding to going totally overboard with the menu for the reception, it is getting to absolutely absurd levels now. Weddings are an expensive affair as it is and I have to be the bitch here who hold him back at every step. His philosophy - go for it. Works extremely well if you have unlimited funds supplied by someone who in turn himself has unlimited unlimited funds. But hey, that ain't the case here. He started out with x budget and now he is at 1.5x with a hell lot yet to be done. I am freaking out here. Yes it is his money, but he ain't going to keep on earning. He will be retiring in Feb itself and so he won't have a steady source of income. And yes, I will always take care of him, no matter what, but this ridiculous spending is getting to me. I am all for a celebration. Have a party, have fun. But know what you can and how much is right for you.

I guess I am wrong to complain about this when I should be having fun and enjoying all the preparation. But there is a minimalist in me and also a person with a critical eye who disapproves. I will keep telling my father to not spend all his money and let us all see where it ends. But till then, it is annoying as hell.

Families seem to have a way of turning you inside out and then wring you until you feel hollowed out. The hardest part for me is to try and satisfy everyone who wants a piece of Purva. I have responsibilities and I am not running away from them. But then you ask for my opinion and then shy away from it - that makes me mad. And then when I do not say anything, I am not giving enough time. Fine, you can do it your way and I will do it my way. I am a daughter, a granddaughter, a cousin, a sister, a niece and a friend all wrapped in one. But somewhere, along the way, people tend to forget that I exist as myself too. That their ideas of me and my requirements of me are totally polar opposites of each other and frankly, it affects me.

The latest madness is my brother's upcoming wedding. I come from a very simple family. We are the middle class of India with a tonne of dreams and a little money to accomplish everything with. So my father's exuberance at this wedding is getting just a little out of hand. From calling people who I have never even heard of to the wedding to going totally overboard with the menu for the reception, it is getting to absolutely absurd levels now. Weddings are an expensive affair as it is and I have to be the bitch here who hold him back at every step. His philosophy - go for it. Works extremely well if you have unlimited funds supplied by someone who in turn himself has unlimited unlimited funds. But hey, that ain't the case here. He started out with x budget and now he is at 1.5x with a hell lot yet to be done. I am freaking out here. Yes it is his money, but he ain't going to keep on earning. He will be retiring in Feb itself and so he won't have a steady source of income. And yes, I will always take care of him, no matter what, but this ridiculous spending is getting to me. I am all for a celebration. Have a party, have fun. But know what you can and how much is right for you.

I guess I am wrong to complain about this when I should be having fun and enjoying all the preparation. But there is a minimalist in me and also a person with a critical eye who disapproves. I will keep telling my father to not spend all his money and let us all see where it ends. But till then, it is annoying as hell.